“I've recently fed.”
The minute he heard my answer, Giovanni jerked his head back with widened eyes. His black mustache tweaked as his upper lip quivered. I smirked, amused by the mixing of shock and disgust in his countenance.
It took him but a few seconds to regain his composure, and as quick as he straightened his face, he stepped forward and resumed his assessment.
“The eyes... there's a humorous misalignment. The corneas lack brilliance...” he mumbled, closing the distance between us.
He cleared his throat in a short three-note tune.
“And then, of course, there's um... M—May I?” His stretching index finger suggested an attempt to study my mouth.
I nodded and Giovanni's hesitant finger drew closer to my lips.
“I will not bite,” I taunted in a whisper.
His finger pushed back my upper lip as if I were a horse whose teeth quality he examined.
“There's um... the pointed canines. Tad retraction of the gums and of course, the um…” he withdrew his finger and watched it close as he wrinkled his nose, “the remnants of human blood.”
The apothecary grimaced in disgust as he extracted a handkerchief from his coat's pocket and wiped his finger clean.
“You do know your trade,” I said.
“I am no charlatan, sir. As I said before—” he removed his white ruffled collar and sat on an old worn stool.
“Your accent...” I mused. It was no longer Italian.
“Ah, yes... I'm as much of an Englishman as are you; there's no crime in that.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “People want an exotic physician and I give it to them.”
“But you are a true physician,” I said. “Why waste your time in alchemical nonsense? Tincture of Gold, the Fountain of Youth... why?”
“I am a true physician,” he said under his breath. “Approved by London's College of Physicians, indeed... but I hardly made ends meet by its practice.”
“What else do you know of my condition?”
“Very little, I'm afraid,” he said. “I've never been as close to a subject as I am now.”
“Is there a cure for it?”
He analyzed me with a bounteous look.
“Would you want it, if there was one?”
“No,” I said. “I would not.”
“Then, good thing there ain't one, ey?” He pursed his lips.
Suppose I were to change the man's life in a minute, that I would use my preternatural powers of persuasion in order to compel him to return to the practice or real medicine; but what good would that do? And besides, the man was entitled to choose his mistakes.
“Have a good life, John Gresham,” I said, revealing his true name I had picked up from his brain long ago.
I moved to the back of the wagon, and exited through its small door, leaving behind a much-stupefied member of London's College of Physicians.
Disappointment took over me as I strolled on my way to the house.
It was not the lack of a remedy against vampirism what kept my spirits low, but rather the crude reality beneath the apothecary's mystical facade. Once every layer of showmanship removed, I found in him a tired human being, weary in spirit, and lacking enough courage to stick to his convictions. And it made my heart cringe with fright.
At least I was real. I bore no false sentiments of guilt after I killed. The sole guilt my soul carried was that of Viktor's death and I feared it would clutch to my being for a very long time. But I pushed it to the back of my brain as I crossed the lawn and moved through the fields, seeking her window.
11
The Raw Bloody Truth
What few beams of moonlight filtered into the darkened room landed on the planked oak door. Unable to part my eyes from it, I considered how the light would bend the minute the door opened to reveal her wondrous sight. It might fall straight on her eyes, or perhaps shift a little to her lips... Playing with those thoughts entertained my racing mind.
I sat on the dresser's chair, by the window. While twisting Dristan's signet ring around my finger, I expected Alisa's footsteps to draw near after finishing dinner.
My knees trembled at the thought of being in her presence once more.
I could not bear to imagine her resentment, her anger after my disappearance in Venice... But I held a grudge of my own against her. She had confined her concern for my well-being to three damned days.
Of course, now that I knew of Pritchard's letter to Juliette, I could understand her leaving Venice with such haste, but what my devilish mind could not yet reconcile was the reason for her sudden engagement to William Pritchard. What nonsense was that? Was her heart so taken by caprice that it would love me in the evening and transfer its affections to another the next morning?
I rose from the chair. Taking one slow breath, I endeavored to appease my anxiety.
Grief had much shaken my spirit after Mother's passing, and I feared it could not endure another painful blow. I cringed at the thought of Alisa's rejection, her absolute disdain, and understandable hatred, for no matter how untrue, in her eyes, I abandoned her.
My instinct urged me to flee, but my heart compelled me to stay. And I stuck to my heart's inclination.
From this quiet room, by means of my vampiric hearing, I was able to listen to my family's conversation as dinner drew close to its end.
“I see no reason to delay it any further.”
“But Father, what hurry is there? Surely, we can wait—”
“I agree with him, Alisa. It makes no sense, waiting for months to be married. My heart is already yours, my sweet. I would marry you tomorrow if you would agree to it!”
“It is most improper, William,” she said. “We must wait, at least a few months; we have barely announced the engagement—”
“I cannot possibly wait any longer, dear.”
“A fortnight should suffice.”
“Father!”
“Very well,” Pritchard urged. “I will arrange everything.”
“It's settled then.” Father's chair creaked against the floorboards as he pushed his seat back, ready to leave the dinner table.
A few minutes passed before I heard her climb upstairs. As soon as the doorknob turned, I jumped out the window and cringed like a gargoyle on the wall that peeked into the room.
The green woolen curtain danced with the evening breeze through the opened sash window.
This was it. I would see her again, but would she see me? I was not sure, not now.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips the minute she closed the door behind her and a slight frown drew on her face. She clenched her fists and moved towards the dresser. Furious she seemed, as she reached for the drawer and pulled it open.
Her delicate hand slipped beneath the heap of folded shawls and drew out the sapphire choker. With eyes that spoke of longing, Alisa studied the necklace for a long while. And then, she spoke.
“You cannot do this to me,” she cried. “You cannot love me and then simply vanish into midair!”
Always self-composed and in charge of her feelings, her sudden outburst of emotion astounded me completely. And yet, I could not determine whether it was pain or hatred what sprung from her words.
Without parting her tearful eyes from the necklace, Alisa sat on the bed.
“Why did you do it…” she mused, “...fooled me into loving you?”
Fooled her? I never deceived her! My feelings were true! Oh, how could I remain silent before these false accusations? Fooled her!
“Why?” she said. “Why did you leave me?”
“I never left,” I whispered. “It was you who left me.”
I stood by the window, a few inches away from the pool of moonlight filtering inside.
“Ivan!”
With widened eyes full of emotion, Alisa ran towards me and wrapped me in her arms. My fingers slipped through her dark locks of hair and I smiled, savoring every second of this embrace. In this moment's bliss, my anger and resentment slowly d
iminished.
Alisa's bloodshot eyes fixed on mine and taking one step back, she withdrew from my side. And then, without warning, she slapped my face.
“I deserve that, and more,” I said. Pain pulsed on my cheek, but it faded away quickly.
“How could you!?” she sobbed. “For days, I searched for you without a single sign, not a trace of your whereabouts! You vanished from the face of the earth!”
“You're upset. I can understand—”
“No. You cannot possibly understand... You are so selfish! You did not care to think for one moment how much your absence would hurt me!” Her clenched fists landed on my chest and I bore their pounding blows without moving. “This was nothing but a game to you... One of your games of chance!”
Her hand rose high, ready to strike yet another blow at my face, but I seized both hands fast to prevent it.
“Alisa, please listen to me,” I said. “I never planned to leave you! That night at the inn, I went downstairs to fetch a drink—”
“A drink?” she huffed, raising one eyebrow. “And where did you get it, in Paris?”
“Paris? What are you—?” I mused, releasing her from my grasp. What was she talking about? “Listen. I know my absence hurt you more than words can say... I can only imagine what haunting thoughts raced through your mind after—”
“After being as foolish as to give my heart to you!”
“Don't say that, please,” I whispered, turning to the window. “I would have stayed with you that night and every single night thereafter, but something happened, and it took me away from you for a little while... And I'm uncertain whether you should know any more of it.”
“Oh, I must know,” she whispered. “You owe me that much!”
“I know I do,” I mused. “It's just that, I could not bear for you to think ill of me...”
“Tell me the truth, Ivan.” Determination took over her voice. “Why did you leave?”
I ran my hand on the windowsill and gazed at the full moon, buried beneath ominous clouds, as I placed my rambling thoughts in order.
“That night, I saw someone,” I said. “A man I thought I had forgotten long ago.”
“Who was this man?”
“His name is Dristan. I first saw him the day Viktor drowned... We did not actually speak then, but he was there. He saw everything as it happened.”
Her hand closed around my arm and its soft pressure snapped me out of whatever trance the moon held me in. I turned back and met her eyes, filled with concern.
“You never told me this before, Ivan. Why would you—?” she held her breath. “Go on.”
“I followed him. I wanted to demand an explanation, to know why he had denied us any help on that tragic day... I lost track of him for a minute and—”
“And what happened? Did you find him?”
“—he found me.”
“I don't understand.”
I paced in the room, making a careful inventory of my following words. And once I made my choice, I sat on the bed. “Alisa, something changed that evening... I changed,” I mused. “That night was… my last night as a human.”
She flinched in disbelief. I expected her rejection of course, so this startled me little. I lowered my chin and gazed downwards.
“What are you saying?” she said, sitting by my side.
The warmth of her hand on my cheek pulled my gaze to her eyes once again.
“I'm saying that... I'm a vampire.”
Alisa moved back, bearing a frown. “Why must you lie to me?”
“It's the raw bloody truth!” I growled, frustrated to face reality. “I am a vicious demon that feeds on human blood. I will never age, and I will never die.”
Her long eyelashes fluttered, and a thousand words pressed behind her quivering lips until the moment came when she could retain them no more.
“Do you realize how unbelievable this seems? Vampires are myths, Ivan. They're not real.” She knelt before me and slid her hand beneath my jawline. “It is but grief that haunts you with this strange notion...”
“It is not grief!” I muttered as I jerked my head away from her hand and rose from the bed.
With trembling hands, I lit the candelabrum before me. As I waited for the flames to grow, I slipped my fingers through my hair fast and then ran them over my lips, not knowing how else to put this plainly.
“Each night ever since, I hunt... and I kill...” The warm glow filled the corner of the room, “...and I take their blood because I have no other choice.”
I picked up the candelabrum and held it at eye level, enough for its light to bathe my face. “See what's become of me...”
Still sitting on the carpeted floor, Alisa's gaze followed my countenance. And as the growing warmth of candlelight spread over my skin, her lips parted and even her face paled within seconds. Horror filled her eyes. True horror. The kind I experienced when Viktor's spirit came to haunt me.
I knew what she saw. The eyes of someone who has met death more than once; the grin of death in every man and woman I had ever killed, fixed upon my corneas. She saw the face of a killer who knew nothing of remorse or contrition.
This was no confession, and I expected no absolution. This was who I was. Take it or leave it.
I placed the candelabra away. The flames hurt my eyes and I could not bear another minute of the sight of shock on her face.
She would run away, leave the room in panic. Perhaps she would even raise alarm in the household and call me out as the fiend that I was... I expected every single one of these scenarios, but nothing happened. All this while, Alisa stood before me, motionless.
Her glistening eyes fixed on me. Little by little, terror stripped away from them and they filled up with something else, though I could not yet determine what.
“My sweet angel...” she whispered. She ran to hold me in her arms. Her face pressed on my chest. “What has he done to you?” she said in a soft quivering voice.
She was weeping. The sharpest sense of pain sifted through her pores. It clung to my skin, piercing its way into my heart and then strangled it in one quick motion.
The room turned around me. I tried to catch my breath, but it eluded me. As sharp as a hundred knives tearing my limbs, I sensed her breaking suffering. And even though I knew myself to be immortal, her pain was killing me.
“Stop,” I mused as I held her hand and parted from her arms. “Please, stop!”
I moved to the window, fleeing from her. As if she were Medusa and I, Perseus, I covered my eyes and wept bitterly.
A minute later, I cleared the tears from my face and gazed at her once more. “Don't you understand?” I said with clenched teeth. “I regret nothing. I kill because it's in my nature... I cannot change who I am.” And I don't want to.
“I'm sorry this happened to you,” she mused.
“I don't want your pity,” I muttered as I slid my fingers on the windowsill. “I have no use for it!” Without giving it another moment's thought, I jumped off the window into the comforting shadows of the evening, hoping never to return.
12
A Fickle Heart
A week had passed. I had postponed it long enough. . Whatever sense of alertness had kept me away from that haunting place finally became dormant.
Under the comforting veil of the evening's dark sky, I galloped across the country, through fields of high grass, with nothing but moonlight to guide my way. Ever since Dristan had passed his Dark Gift onto me, my gaze had acquired unexplainable sharpness. Even in the dimmest lighting conditions, my eyes still captured up to the last detail sunk in darkness.
I did not ride alone. A deep sense of unworthiness followed me to that tragic site. Now that I stood but a few miles ahead, it became clear to me that luck had been on my side that ominous day, and to luck alone did I owe my life—or whatever was left of it.
My heart raced at the beat of my mare's gallop, determined to follow through with my decision. And though I wanted to cast it off my preter
natural being, fear gripped me tight, like it did to no other living creature; its avid claws sank in the depths of my damned soul, crushing and tearing my frail will apart.
The minute I reached the hill's summit, I pulled the reins. My mare whined and reared, restless as the cursed panoramic lay before us. It reminded me of that dreadful day; how Viktor's mare had displayed the same agitation, moving from side to side, its eerie cries wailing in the wind.
“Steady now,” I whispered as I smoothed my hand on her neck. She obeyed that very instant and became docile once more.
As I took in our surroundings, I hardly recognized them.
Bathed in the pale moonlight, fields of high grass reached beyond the hill, dancing in the wind's soft breeze. Behind them, the outline of many pine trees stuck against the vacant sky. Myriad titillating stars guided my way downhill.
Darkness infused life to the night. And I was part of this darkness. A swift sense of calm enveloped me the moment I realized it, for what other creatures under God reigned in the shadows? None as lethal as myself.
I fastened the reins to a tree and walked the rest of the way down.
The air was moist and the earth dampened, what with the rain pouring early in the afternoon. No sounds but those of the evening's life stirred in the environment. Toads and crickets alternated their songs, and the dying chant of blackbirds followed my footsteps all the way to the lake's embankment; its peaceful blue waters shimmered beneath the starry sky.
Unfathomable, to think that peace could reign in a place befallen by horror and tragedy but a few years ago.
When I stepped onto the spot where I had found my salvation, a thousand images blasted into my brain, all at once.
Despair builds inside me as my hands move fast removing my cloak, underwater. I scream. The surrounding white fields become visible but for a few seconds as I emerge. Something pulls me down with mighty strength. I plunge back into the freezing lake. It's him. As the last remnants of life leave his body, Viktor's hand seizes my ankle, gripping it tight, although his eyes are now vacant...
Written in Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part Two. (The Unnatural Brethren Book 1) Page 7
